III

Ruby Pendleton...

Caff went back as far as he could, searching his memories for a face to put to the name. He tried to remember anything about her, anything other than the blue silk dress; what she sounded like, what she acted like, what she was like, and couldn't do it. The sum of what he knew amounted to a dead working girl and that was an awful shame. She had been a living, breathing person and now she was a ruin on a table in Barney's morgue and he didn't know anything else. It troubled him. It troubled him quite a bit. “Milton know anything?” he asked Jennie.

She frowned at him. “How d'you mean?”

“Hell, anything!” He was pacing, hands on his hips, trying to keep his agitation contained. Jennie blinked at his tone. “She a native, or from back east? She working when he saw her last? When he saw her last!”

“He didn't know anything, Caff.” Jennie said. “I think she was just a whore to him.”

Caff growled, shaking his head. He stopped pacing and turned away from his deputy, folding his arms across his chest. One deep breath followed another. He wasn't doing a very good job of keeping himself under control. He spit into the hard-packed dirt road that ran through the center of town. “Hard to believe he'd say something like that,” he said.

“He didn't,” Jennie answered, coming to stand beside him. “I...I ain't sure how to explain it. I ain't even sure I'm right, it's just a feeling I got, talking to him about it.”

He clicked his tongue, then said, “Alright. So that's a bust.”

“Maybe it ain't,” She hurried to say, “maybe I just got spooked, seeing her all tore up like that. Now I'm seeing things where they ain't. I don't know.”

He grunted. “Well...you think on it. If it turns out you think we should talk to him again, we'll come on back.”

“Okay,” she nodded. She looked around the front stoop of the Hotel. “So what now?”

“Now,” Caff said. He figured now was as good a time as any to tell her about Elijah. “we head back to the Jail. Got something you need to know.”

“Can't do it here?” she asked, meeting his eyes.

He shook his head. “No. Don't want anyone overhearing.”

After a moment she said, “Okay.”

- - -

As they walked, Calavera woke around them. A flock of young children were being to the schoolhouse by the slightly older children. Their chirps and shouts and laughter faded to silent, wide-eyed awe as he and Jennie passed by. The noise resumed as they flocked away down a side street. The schoolhouse, which did double duty as the town library, lay at the end.

Leland Heminger, with rag and bucket, stood outside his laundry. He dipped the rag, wrung out the water, and began wiping the overnight coating of accumulated dust from his prized glass window. He'd just had it installed and looked after it like it was kin. He nodded to Caff, who returned it. On the other side of the glass one of Heminger's employees stood, balled fists on her hips. She came out in a huff and snatched the rag from Heminger's hands, at which point they commenced to arguing.

Leeds' Goods & Sundry, the town general store, stood next to the laundry. Its owner, Arnold Leeds, was sweeping his stoop. A man could get almost necessity or luxury he required from that store, if only they could tolerate Arnie's prices. He scowled at Caff as they passed him by. His daughter gave up inheriting his store to work for Caff instead, and Arnie would not forgive either of them for it. For her part, Jennie had never seemed to blame Caff for the rift between her and her father. Something for which Caff was grateful.

The dull thud of hammer on heated metal heralded Swanson's Farrier before the pair reached it. The unique and peculiar smell of a horse being shod followed. August Swanson and one of his employees bustled around a huge, brown draft horse stood placid and pliable near the forge. Absorbed in their work, they didn't notice Caff or his deputy. Good thing for it, otherwise they'd be in for a long discussion about the proper care of horses. Gus was soft-hearted, and cared mightily for the beasts he worked with.

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Then the Jail. Clapboard wood and shingles. The pair of them tromped up the steps, kicked what excess dust they could from their boots, and entered. Jennie made sure the door closed behind them. Caff dropped into his chair with a sigh, leaning his head back against the wall and closing his eyes. Damn, but he was tired. What energy he'd gained from learning of Ruby's murder was gone. He wanted to get some sleep. He needed to work this out.

“So,” Jennie said, sounding much closer than her desk. He cracked open an eye to see that she had perched on his. He closed his eye. “What's the big secret?”

“Elijah's awake.” he replied.

Her jaw went slack, surprise writ clear across her face. “He is?”

Caff shrugged. “Looks that way. Was out walking the graveyard, early this morning, saw his place was open. So was his coffin.” He was struck, suddenly, by the urge to tell Jennie about the dark. About how he, a grown man, had felt terror upon seeing the shadows and how they clung to the walls. He'd told the Mayor. Why not tell his deputy? He wanted to. He just...couldn't. “Looks like he's up and about.”

There was a moment's silence, Jennie breaking it by asking, “But you ain't sure?”

“Well, that's the thing.” He answered. “He didn't come to the Jail. Or the Mayor. He's in the wind.”

She grunted. “Well that's...odd.”

He hummed his agreement and said, “Went over the graveyard, looking for tracks and all. Couldn't find any. Then again,” he added, “I'm not much of a tracker.”

“Reckon we should get out there, have another look?” she asked, “Maybe get some people together to help?”

He shook his head, “I want to keep this quiet. You, me, and the Mayor's the only people who know, and I'd like to keep it that way.”

“Why?” she asked. “What's wrong with people knowing?”

“Nothing, I don't think.” he said. “I just worry.”

She scratched her nose and said, “Well, he does look good for it.”

“Oh, he does.” Caff agreed. “I'm inclined to think him responsible.”

Jennie nodded, pushing away from his desk. She held the pinch of her thumb and forefinger to her mouth as she frowned at the floor. “How do we find him, though? Man that old, you figure he don't get found unless he wants to be.”

“Well...” Caff dragged the word out and he reluctantly admitted, “I have no goddamn idea.”

- - -

Jennie looked at him for a long moment before returning to her desk and propping her feet atop it, legs crossed at the ankle. She laced her fingers together over her belly and said nothing, gazing at the empty cells that took up the majority of the building. He sighed and leaned over, bracing his elbows against his knees and closing his eyes. They burned in his skull as his body sagged in fatigue. If he could just get some sleep, just an hour or so, surely he could come up with something. If his weary mind could get away from the hole torn in poor Ruby's body and the smell that hung around her like fog, he might be able to conjure a way to find Elijah.

If he could just get some sleep. Just an hour. Maybe if he'd been better rested, less afraid, he'd have caught sign of the missing vampire before he'd killed Ruby. If he killed Ruby. There was also the question of how someone just disappeared. Centuries old or not, Caff figured there had to have been something. There probably was, he just missed it. Jennie was probably right: thing to do was get back out there with some folk and pick the place over again.

Which ran right into another worry. Once word got out, and it would, people would want someone to blame. It wouldn't matter if Ruby was a working girl. They'd see themselves, or their children, or their spouses in her place. They'd be scared. Caff knew that people here were practical, pragmatic folk. They had to be. Life in Calavera required it. But even practical, pragmatic people got scared. People did stupid things when they were scared. They'd feed each other's fears, work themselves into a frenzy, and then it wouldn't matter if Elijah was actually guilty. He sighed, dropping his face into his hands.

Maybe he was getting worked up over nothing. Maybe everyone would do what Milton O'Neil did; shrug, dismiss Ruby as a dead prostitute, and move on with their lives. He just didn't know. Until he could know for sure, he wouldn't take the risk. The sound of someone stomping up the Jail's steps drew him from his thoughts. He sat up, seeing Jennie do the same from her slouch, as the door was slammed open.

“Is it true?!” Claudia Caffey demanded, skirt swirling around her ankles. “Is Ruby dead?!”

Caff blinked. “...Claudia?”

Claudia huffed and put her fists on her hips. “Yes, Addison, it's me. Hello, Jennie.”

“Hey, Claudia.” Jennie said laconically, putting her feet back up. “How're you doing?”

“My friend is dead,” Claudia said flatly, “or so I hear.”

Jennie grunted. Caff stood and cleared his throat, drawing his sister's attention. He waved her over, saying, “Leave my deputy be.”

Claudia came over to him, folding her arms and frowning at him. “Is it true?” she asked. “Is Ruby dead?”

He nodded.

“Oh,” she said, for a moment covering her mouth with her hand. “Oh, no. That poor woman.”

“You knew her?” he asked. She nodded. “Tell me.”

“We were friends,” Claudia said, sitting on his desk. “I met her four, five months ago? She came to the school after class one day and asked if she could learn how to read at her age. I told her of course she could. So, every other day I gave her lessons.”

“She mention where she lived? Where she was from?”

“No,” Claudia said, shaking her head, “she is – she was – an intensely private person. Didn't like to talk much about herself. I–”

Over her shoulder, he saw Jennie frown and tilt her head. She sat up and looked to the door. What is she doing? A moment later, she stood, frown deepening. “Did y'all hear that?” she asked, interrupting Claudia.

Caff stepped around his sister, straining his ears. “Hear what?” she asked. The three of them stood in silence, waiting for whatever it was Jennie heard the first time. It dragged out, this moment, until Jennie's alert posture began to falter.

“Sorry,” she said, “I just thought I heard–”

She was interrupted by a thin, high scream coming from beyond the Jail's closed door. It was followed by another, and another, until a chorus of screams was sounding. “Jennie!” he snapped, checking to see his pistol was in its holster.

“Going!” she called back, pulling open the door and darting outside.

His own progress was stopped by Claudia catching his arm, “What's happening?” she asked.

“I don't know,” he said, “but stay put! You hear me?”

She nodded, “I hear you.”

“Okay.” he said, “Okay.”

Then he raced out into the street.